


Cold Snap Mini Series

by strei



Category: Twisted-Wonderland (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Other, Romance, Slow Burn, i thinks it's obvious who i simp for the most here lets be real, so much slow burn, you won't realize ur melting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:22:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26110333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strei/pseuds/strei
Summary: A set of six seperate works I uploaded to my Tumblr (wickedfaerytale).Each chapter is standalone and involves a gender neutral reader.
Relationships: Deuce Spade x Reader, Leona Kingscholar x Reader, Malleus Draconia x Reader, Riddle Rosehearts x Reader, Silver x reader, Vil Schoenheit x Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 222





	1. Falling For You (Riddle Rosehearts)

**“** ****Gyaah!”** **

You jumped in fright, snow shovel in hand, and tried to look towards the front gate of Ramshackle Dormover heaps of snow. There had been a mad flurry overnight and you had come to the begrudging realization that there would be no way out of shovelling like your life depended on it when you awoke. Surely enough, come morning, you had struggled to even open your door against the weight of the stuff. There would be no stomping back and forth in the hopes that, over time, you’d wear down a slippery, but effortless, path to and from the main street.

Unfortunately, this amount of clumpy sticky snow had required good old fashion elbow grease lest you succumb to being caved in your shoddy dormitory until you expired of hunger or the cold.

It’d been dark when you had started shovelling the pathway. Now, the barest hint of sunlight could be seen as a lavender tint in an otherwise starry sky. The last hour had been silent, save for your heavy breathing and the scrape of your shovel.

That sudden piercing squeal, cutting through the comfortable silence, would’ve frightened even a braver person, you try to lie to yourself as you rose to your tip toes, still unable to see the squealer above the mounds of snow and the yard fence.

“H…hello?” you called out, unsure if you wanted someone to answer. In all likelihood, it was just another ghost. Or a student.

Or you were going bonkers.

A pregnant moment of silence weighed heavily on you before you finally heard a small, pained grunt in response.

Chucking the shovel, you awkwardly high stepped through the deep snow in the direction of that weak grumble. You stumbled onto the pavement, embarrassingly out of breath, and looked down upon the prone and snow dusted red-head. A snow shovel lay in the street, a good ten feet away from either of you.

“Riddle?” you asked, more out of surprise than curiosity.

The young man hissed and winced as he turned his head. It throbbed viciously where he had connected with the ground. He opened his eyes, expecting to see the starry sky or a blurrier version of it. He had not expected to see you standing so close to him, your eyes full of concern.

To Riddle’s great shame, he was unable to hold his squeak of surprise.

“W-what do you think you’re doing?!” he demanded, scuttling back from you like a flustered crab.

“I heard a squeal and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine, thank you very much!” He quickly rose to his feet, dusting snow off of his backside in an embarrassed tizzy. Riddle was furious for having made such a fool of himself, especially in front of you. He wasn’t sure why the _you_ part of all this made him so sore.

When he finally cooled down enough to process your words, the red head frowned. “I did not _squeal_.”

“Okay.”

“I shouted.”

“Okay.”

“Like a man.”

“ _Sure_.”

Despite agreeing with everything he said, Riddle could not help but feel as if you were making fun at his expense. He opened his mouth to scold you for looking down on him only to catch your gaze. When you smiled teasingly at him, a twinkle in your eyes, he found all of his ire was quickly replaced by the awful, flustered, fluttering, scalding feeling in his chest. He huffed, straightening his back to look around.

“Drop something?”

“Yes,” he answered, locating the snow shovel he had ~~flungtossed~~ _dropped_ on his way to Ramshackle. Riddle strode towards the errant shovel and picked it up. He turned back to you, his face flushed from the cold and from the knowledge that the two of you were alone. Even the braindead duo, who seemed to be welded to your side, were nowhere in sight.

He had seen the heavy snowfall last night before he had gone to bed and had decided to wake up early- _but definitely not for you_ \- to practice his shovelling- _not for you_ \- near Ramshackle- _he could not stress enough that it had NOT been for you_. If you had happened to also be awake early and were also, by chance, shovelling the pathway of your dorm early in the morning after a heavy snowfall, well, then it would just be pleasant coincidence and he would graciously offer you a hand.

“If you would like-” Riddle started to say as he walked towards you only to have the ground slide from under his feet once again. “Gyaah!”

Riddle wind-milled for what felt like hours despite being only a single split second. His grasp on the shovel went non-existent and it sailed through the air once more, like a particularly challenged bird, before landing exactly where it had lain a moment ago.

He was down.

Again.

And he did not want to get back up. No, Riddle wanted to become one the street. He wanted to be a red splotch so he wouldn’t have to face the indignity of his own body.

He’d never been this humiliated in his life.

He couldn’t believe you had seen him do that.

He couldn’t believe he cared so much that it was you who had seen him do that.

Riddle covered his face with gloved hands and prayed for the ground to swallow him up. Oh, he had never been so thoroughly embarrassed before. And to think, he wasn’t even sure why he was so strongly affected. He’d fallen plenty of times before, but the knowledge that you had seen him so horribly flustered and out of control shamed him.

After a long moment of wallowing, there was a shuffle of clothing and the crunch of snow to his right.

Another tense second passed before he peeked between his fingers. The dim stars twinkled a jovial greeting at him. He let out a breath of relief. The last thing he wanted to see was your face again. Maybe you hadn’t seen him fall. Maybe you had turned around. Maybe you didn’t know, even now, that he was lain on the ground in a disgraceful heap.

Maybe if he got up quickly enough, you would never know-

He glanced to his right.

You were lain on the ground beside him, gaze stubbornly fixed on the stars. He could hear small, almost piggish, snorts as you fought the urge to laugh, or giggle, or tease him. Or to do all three at once. Your red lips were pressed into a thin line and mirthful tears shimmered at the corners of your eyes.

_If I rolled over and kissed you, you’d stop laughing._

The thought came, unbidden, from a no-longer-quiet corner of his mind and he felt a very different kind of blush rise on his cheeks. Riddle brushed away the many fantasies suddenly springing to light, ones where he’d roll over and kiss you and you’d stop laughing and kiss him back and he would kiss you again and _again and_ -

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, desperate to break out of his own reverie. He cleared his throat, hoping you wouldn’t hear the husky edge his voice had acquired.

“Lying down beside you,” you quipped back, as unfazed as ever by his harsh words. He didn’t know if he hated or ~~lov~~ ~~ _ed_~~ _appreciated_ that about you. Outside of that first interaction, you made it a point to treat him with an almost disrespectful amount of familiarity. Sometimes he wanted to scold you for it. He wanted to hold your little chin in his grip and hear you call him sir as he-

“Why?” Riddle cleared his throat again.

“So if anyone walks by, they’d think we’re just making snow angels.”

“That’s idiotic. No one with a working brain cell would think that.”

“What if I said I just wanted to lie down with you?” You turned to look at him.

Your blunt words rattled his skull as your gaze met his. He coughed, trying to maintain his composure. “That would be…?”

“Coolio? Righteous? Fucking A?”

“Acceptable,” he corrected you sharply, and to his ~~amusement~~ irritation, you smiled back at him.

_I want to kiss you._

Riddle pressed his lips tight together. One day. One day he would. Maybe.

He glanced at you again, taking in the gentle sweep of your lashes and the entreating swell of your prettily puckered mouth. Definitely one day.

But it wouldn’t be today.

“Well, you’re in the wrong position to make a snow angel,” he said.

“Oh? Are you an expert or something?”

He rolled his eyes and spread his limbs out. “You need to lie down like this.”

You effortlessly copied his pose, your gloved hand thunking against his.

Riddle frowned.

_Kiss her. Kiss her. Kiss her._

“No.”

“What do you mean no-?”

Riddle curled his fingers around yours, holding your hand tightly in his.

“Like this.”

For now.

“Oh.”

Despite the blush staining his cheeks and the thunderous cacophony of his heart, Riddle didn’t think he’d ever been this calm and content in his life. As a child he had lived with his mother and she had been, well, his mother. Unhappy. Angry. Controlling. Adolescence had been much of the same. At Night Raven. he was more free but still discontent. Still scared and angry.

But now he was calm and quiet.

He was happy.

You squeezed his hand.

He squeezed back.

_Kiss her._

You turned your face to his, the sweetest of smiles on your lips.

_I want to kiss you._

What could one little indulgence cost? No one would see. His mother wouldn’t know. No one would It would just be a little secret between the two of you.

Didn’t he deserve a little scrap of… love?

Riddle raised his left hand, wanting to cup your cheek as he kissed your sassy, soft smile.

“Are you guys okay?”

“They’re obviously making snow angels.”

Riddle sighed in irritation as his left hand fell back onto the ground. The two idiots, who had dutifully arrived at the worst moment possible, shrugged and moved to lay down as well.

“I don’t get it.”

“What, are you stupid?”

The pair continued to bicker with one another, lying on the ground and acting as if their dorm head weren’t there with them. The quiet moment was gone, no longer belonging just to the both of you, but Riddle could still feel the warmth of your hand through two layers of gloves. He would have that kiss one day.

Even if it wasn’t today.


	2. Practical (Deuce Spade)

“Now, can you tell us _why_ you’re thirty minutes late to class? Do you not care about your education?” Professor Train demanded as you attempted to sneak into class through the side door.

You replied with a meek, “I’m sorry sir,” and took a seat in the spot the professor had haughtily pointed out in the front row.

Your hot water tap had decided it felt like dispensing water straight from the devil’s asshole and your cold water tap refused to warm up beyond just above freezing. On top of that, you had been snowed into Ramshackle overnight and had lost first period to shovelling your way free. Even though Magical History was already half way over, you’d figured it would still be worth it to attend the last half.

You’d clearly been wrong.

“'I’m sorry’ isn’t an answer.”

“What would you like me so say, sir?” you asked, your voice very small. From the back of the room, pair of blue eyes narrowed on the back of your head and then shifted to the angry old man looming above you.

“I’d like you to tell me why you’re late and if you care about your education.”

“I had to shovel,” you whispered, flushed with embarrassment as the rest of the classroom stared at you with a mix of pity, confusion, and irritation. “I do care.”

“I can’t hear you.”

“I-I-”

“I can’t hear you.”

“I-” your voice broke. You were going to cry. You didn’t want to cry. “I-”

“Louder!”

“Oh, _fuck off._ ” a voice shouted from the back of the class, words punctuated by the loud slam of a fist on a wooden desk.

“Excuse me, Mr. Spade, do you have something to say?” Professor Train hissed.

“Obviously!”

“Deuce-” Ace started, only to be cut off with a sharp command to ‘shut the hell up’. “Dick,” he muttered and rolled his eyes, aware that his rival/friend wouldn’t listen to him in his current state.

“They said they were _sorry_ , get the fuck off their back.”

“I wanted an explanation-”

“And you would have gotten one if you weren’t such a bulging prick!” Deuce was furious. He could clearly see the red rims of your eyes as you struggled not to cry in front of your classmates. He could guess why you had been late. He’d woken up well after first period had started and had hoped that you’d gotten through the snow okay. It was evident from the bright pink of your nose that you hadn’t.

Maybe Professor Trein had also had a rough night. Maybe that asshole cat of his had scratched him in a spot no one could see. Good. He fucking deserved it. Regardless, it didn’t excuse the way the older man was acting. Deuce wasn’t just going to sit there as you were brought to the verge of tears.

“You’ll be seeing the Headmaster about your attitude, young man!”

“Like I give a shit,” Deuce snarled, grabbing his jacket and books and storming to the front of the class. He stopped in front of you and extended his arm. “C'mon.”

You tentatively reached out and took his gloved hand. Despite the anger seething off of him, he gently tugged you out of your seat and pulled you along.

Outside in the cool, fresh air, the two of you finally came to a stop.

“What a fucking asshole. What gives him the right to be such a prick?” Deuce began to rant, getting increasingly wrapped up in his furor. “It’s not like you make it a habit of skipping class! If you didn’t care about your education, why would you have even shown up at all? What a dick!”

Deuce was furious and couldn’t stop snowballing. He couldn’t get the sound of your soft, broken voice out of his head. You had sounded so sad and scared. Who had given that asshole the right to make you so upset?! And when you had taken his hand, he had seen your face. Had seen the sheen of tears on your lovely eyes. Had seen the soft quiver of your lips. You’d taken his hand tentatively, like you were scared that he, too, would be so mean to you.

Unforgivable!

Absolutely unforgivable!

“I just wanna beat the shit out of him!” Deuce shouted.

You didn’t know how to calm your friend down when he got like this. Usually he would sort of snap out of it, but that seemed like it wouldn’t be happening any time soon. The dark haired young man began to pace around, stomping angrily on the snow, obviously imagining it was Professor Trein instead. At a loss for what to do, you decided to try something off the cuff.

You figured a literal take on cooling down was in the cards. Grabbing some snow from an unused bench, you proceeded to shovel it down the back of Deuce’s shirt.

“Hyaaa!” he screamed, nearly jumping out of his pants in surprise, and flapped around, trying to shake the ice out of his shirt. “What was that for?!”

“I didn’t know how to calm you down!”

“So you decided to do _that_?!”

“Yes!”

“Are you a sadist?!”

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?!” you demanded. Deuce frowned as he continued to try to shimmy the snow out of his shirt. At the sight of him wiggling so desperately, you laughed.

“You think this is funny?” he asked, clearly exasperated. When he heard another barely contained giggle from you, Deuce almost smiled. Almost. Maybe he would have if you hadn’t shoved so much snow into his shirt collar. He could feel the cold trickle seeping down his back, causing his muscles to twitch frantically.

“No,” you lied and snorted as he pulled off a particularly uncoordinated move.

“Help me, if you’re so much better at this,” he pleaded with you.

Deciding to take mercy on the poor man, and also because you were wholly responsible for his current predicament, you stepped forwards to pull up his shirt so that you could scoop out the snow currently melting between it and his skin.

You flushed as you revealed the pale and surprisingly taught panes of Deuce’s back. He had made it clear from the get go that he excelled in physical education, but it had never really… connected, exactly what that meant. His muscles shifted temptingly as he continued to wriggle in discomfort. The muscles of his upper back were well built and tapered into a surprisingly trim waist. Your eyes wandered to the scandalous dip of his lower back, where you saw a single bead of melted snow sparkle in the light.

You got the sudden urge to… lick him.

Would he moan?

Would he be upset with you?

“Help me,” Deuce whined suddenly, snapping you out of your lustful reverie.

“I-I am,” you stuttered, and dislodged all of the snow you could find from his shirt.

He sighed in relief and was about to turn around and thank you when he felt your finger on his lower back. A shiver passed through him that had absolutely nothing to do with how cold your hands were on his skin. Deuce bit his lip as he felt that finger trail up along his spine and then along the curve of a shoulder blade.

“I’m done,” you said and stepped, back, hoping he couldn’t hear how your voice trembled slightly.

“Th-thank you,” Deuce stuttered, unable to turn around, his face flushed so deeply he could hear his own blood pounding in his ears. He struggled to control his breathing for a split second, his hand rising to his thundering heart of its own volition. “What was that?”

You flushed, not sure how to answer him. What was there you could say? You couldn’t very well tell him that you had lost control of your good senses for a moment and had given in to the impulse to just touch him! “M-my hands!” you blurted out.

“Your hands?” he asked, incredulous, his heart rate calming down slightly.

“Yeah they- uh- they’re really cold and your back was just -uh- warm?”

“O-oh,” Deuce murmured and reached up to scratch the back of his neck, flustered. He hadn’t meant to ask you why you had done what you did, it had just sort of come out. The young man wasn’t sure if he was relieved that you had just been surprised that he had been so warm or if he had wanted you to say something else.

He wasn’t even sure what it was he had wanted you to say.

“L-let me see,” he said and reached his hands out.

Taken aback, you put your hands in his.

An awkward moment passed as he held your ungloved hands. The outside of the leather wasn’t particularly warm and you couldn’t help but ask, “Uh, what are you doing?”

“Huh?” Deuce looked down to see exactly what you had noticed a moment before. “Oh, sorry.” He flushed and quickly removed his gloves to hold your cold hands in his. “I can share my heat like this too!”

You were reminded of how you had so impulsively given in to your urges and subsequently lied about them. “This is also very nice.”

“It’s a lot less startling this way.” Deuce gripped your smaller hands tightly, willing his body heat into you and feeling your fingers grow less icy as the moments passed by. He trailed his thumb over your knuckles absently, noticing small scars he’d never paid attention to before. Your hands were so…soft.

Huh.

Deuce rubbed your wrist and realized how much smaller it was than his own. He’d never really taken note of you like this before. With your hands held in his, your slender fingers in his clasp, you seemed almost…dainty. You’d never been particularly strong in his eyes. You were a good friend and definitely a level headed strategist in a fight, but you’d never seemed so… delicate… before.

Huh.

He squeezed your hands. If he wasn’t careful, he could probably hurt you. He’d never want to, of course. But now that he had noticed, it was hard not to. How often had you run out of a fight banged up and bruised alongside him and Ace? Had your injuries been worse and he’d just never noticed? He’d have to take more notice of you from now on. As a friend, of course! As a classmate and training buddy, of course!

“Thank you.”

Deuce was broken out of his reverie by you suddenly speaking.

“Huh?”

“Thank you,” you repeated, flushing. “For sticking up for me, earlier. I know you’d stick up for any of your friends, but it meant a lot to me. Thank you.”

“I wouldn’t have cared if it was Ace,” Deuce muttered, making you laugh. He smiled softly at that. “I’ve always got your back.”

You flushed pleasantly at his words.

“Deuce! Manservant! Where are you idiots?!” a familiar voice hissed down the corridor, surprising the both of you. Ace’s voice quickly chimed in with a mocking laugh.

Deuce let go of you, immediately missing the feel of your hands in his and then in short succession, unable to help being confused as to why it bothered him so much. It wasn’t like he wanted to hold hands with Ace or Cater.

Wait, had you two been holding hands?

He flushed and quickly grabbed you once again before he could process what he was doing.

“Yes?” you asked, innocently unaware of his internal conflict.

“Your hands!” he said. “My gloves! Here.” Deuce reached into his pockets to pull his gloves back out. To both of your surprise, he gently slid them onto your hands. The dark leather stretched around your fingertips as he gently rolled it down past your knuckles. His nails grazed the soft expanse of your palms, tickling the inside of your wrist. He flushed, feeling that this was somehow more intimate than just holding your hand.

He had the odd feeling that he was…dressing you.

His heart began to thunder again.

“What the hell, you guys- why didn’t you answer us?” Ace demanded as he rounded the corner.

Dropping your hand quickly, Deuce snapped back, “Do you know what kind of trouble we’d get into for yelling so loudly in the corridors during classes?”

“And here I thought you didn’t particularly care about not getting into trouble any more,” Ace snickered. “Man, Trein was _pissed_ when you both left. Fair enough, he was being a dickwad.”

“A total ass,” Grim said with a nod in agreement.

“What are you both doing here anyways?” Deuce asked.

“We couldn’t just let you guys be rebels on your own,” Ace replied. “Maaaan, I wish I could see Trein’s face right now. He probably looks like a tomato.” The ginger cackled at the image he had conjured in in his head.

“So we’re all headed to Headmaster Crowley, then?” you asked, a little bit nervous.

“He’s probably expecting us by now anyways,” Grim said and shrugged his little shoulders.

Deuce sighed. “True.”

“Aah, it’s freezing today,” Ace hissed and stretched. He looked at Deuce and, surprised, asked, “Aren’t your hands cold?”

The blue eyed man flexed his hands, feeling the cool winter breeze against his knuckles. He glanced at you and saw the pink flush of your cheeks as the four of you made your way to the Headmaster’s Office. He glanced down and saw his gloves on your hands.

A smile graced his lips.

“Not at all.”


	3. Snowfall (Leona Kingscholar)

“If you’re not gonna help, get out of my way.”

A bright emerald of an eye opened slowly, lazily, to glance down at you. Leona’s sigh bloomed into a wide yawn, baring sharp canines that glinted in the cold sunlight. He stretched in a languid roll among the boughs of his chosen tree. You weren’t fooled by what you considered to be an overacted, and utterly fictitious, show of lethargy. The cat bastard had been taunting you all afternoon and you refused to believe his dumb little charade.

You kicked the tree again, causing those snow encrusted branches to shed all over your nicely shovelled path.

“Kick my tree again, little herbivore, and see what happens,” he threatened you in a lazy drawl.

You scoffed up at him, opening your mouth to tell him to move once more only to be whapped across the top of your head with his tail. “Leona!”

“Hmmm?” The lion snickered and swished the fluffy appendage tauntingly above you.

He couldn’t say exactly what he was doing here, outside of being a nuisance. But that was purposeful. The what was easy. The why was a little more complicated.

There was something tantalizing about your cold pinkened cheeks. How they flushed ever more deeply each time he ‘accidentally’ smacked the fluffy tip of his tail against your temple. Or your cheek. Or your lips.

In the dim afternoon light, as snow continued to lazily drift down, Leona couldn’t resist being pulled into your gravity. He couldn’t seem to escape you. Wherever he went, your scent would drift in on the breeze. It didn’t matter if he was in the library or the gardens, he’d hear your bright laughter and it would ring in his ears. He didn’t know how to make it stop. How to get you out of his head.

Maybe he didn’t want to make it stop.

No, Leona definitely wanted to make it stop. You were in his dreams and his waking hours. No matter where he went you were there, pricking him and poking him. Reminding him that you existed.

So he was going to settle for being a mild irritant. It would be payback, of sorts.

“Stop it!”

He smirked as you shouted up at him, moving to wack you in the back of the head one more time. You caught his tail, not to his surprise at all. He wiggled it in your hold and could feel you debating what to do with it. Leona expected you to tug on him. He expected you to swish it in frustration.

He did _not_ expect you to bite him.

“What the fu-” he cursed as he flipped off the branch he’d been perched on. “What are you doing?!” the lion man demanded, easily slipping into a tone of annoyance.

You grinned cheekily, triumphantly, at him.

He wanted to kiss that stupid smile off your dumb little face.

“It’s payback for you slapping me with your tail all afternoon,” you said and proceeded to stick your tongue out at him.

“Keep doing that and I’ll do something with your tongue.”

“Was that a threat?” you asked, rolling your eyes playfully.

“Call it a premonition,” he replied. What was he even doing here? Every moment he spent with you, snarking back and forth, was a moment he wasn’t napping.

“I’m not scared of you,” you said, sticking your tongue out again.

You saw a devilish smirk spread on the handsome man’s face and had a split second of regret before you were tackled to the ground. Between the snow and the efforts of the big lion on top of you, the impact wasn’t jarring.

No, what really sent your heart tripping over itself was Leona’s handsome face inches from your own.

A furious blush rose in your cheeks as your breathing quickened. You could feel his warm exhale on your lips as the tips of your noses nearly touched. His deep green eyes grew hazy for a split second as they stared into yours. His gaze darted down to your lips and back up.

Leona heard you swallow nervously and glanced down once more to see you biting on your lower lip.

_No fair._

_He_ wanted to do that.

He frowned as the thought came, unbidden, to him. Sure, you were cute, but you were, above all, a pest.

His _favourite_ pest.

In effort to quiet his thoughts, Leona leaned in closer, revelling in the hitch of your breathing. He pressed his forehead to yours for a long moment. Your breaths began to sync. His chest filled with air as yours emptied, keeping the two of you in constant, heart stopping contact. He breathed out as you breathed in, as if you were a single organism. Your hearts beating for one another.

Leona pulled away the barest fraction, the warm peach fuzz of his cheek pressed to yours. Never much one to resist temptation, he rubbed against you, revelling in the innocent yet intimate press of your bodies.

You felt like you were going to explode. Pressed too tightly together, the sinuous strength of his body could be felt as he leaned down against you. His heat and scent encased you and, despite the cold snow on your back, you felt unbearably warm. Above the sound of your own blood rushing in your ears, you heard it. It was the softest rumble, nearly imperceptible. But you didn’t need to hear it. You could feel it vibrating through your body.

Leona was purring.

He came to the same realization a fraction after you and a soft chuckle escaped your now smiling lips. The prince tensed for a moment, about to snap some irritate excuse, before softening and deciding to lean into it. The purr became louder, almost deafeningly so, and he moved to more fully look down upon you.

The cocky smirk on his face was almost enough to steal your breath and your heart away.

“Like what you see?” he asked, well aware that you wouldn’t be able to answer him as he rumbled away.

Unable to come up with a coherent response, you acted on sheer impulse.

You threw a fist of snow at him.

He looked down at you incredulously.

You looked up at him incredulously.

“I’m sorry,” you said and, unfortunately, giggled. “No, I mean it, I’m super sorry.”

“You brat,” he growled as you pulled out of his grasp and tried to roll away. Not giving you the chance, he grabbed your ankle and quickly shovelled a handful of snow up the back of your blazer.

“You prick!” you hissed and retaliated with another fistful of snow into his shocked face.

The lion pounced on you, rolling in the snow as you squealed gleefully beneath him. A lightness filled Leona’s heart as he listened to you laugh, even as cold snow gathered in the collar of your shirts.

_I love you._

“What?” Leona froze, all levity gone. You peered up at him inquisitively.

“I didn’t say anything…?” you said, rather confused as to the sudden turn of events.

He shook his head, trying to unseat some unwelcome thought. Turning back to you, he grinned, baring a sharp canine. “Ready to apologize?”

“Never!”

He chuckled, and the deep, husky sound fluttered its way into your body, warming your heart and curling your toes.

“Pesky herbivore,” he rumbled, leaning over you once again with that awful heart stealing grin.

You were prepared this time, only just barely, when his faced loomed above. Those lovely deep green eyes blazed with an unknown light, some emotion in their depths that neither of you dared to name.

If Leona didn’t know better, he’d have thought you had cast a spell on him. He couldn’t stop looking at you. Couldn’t stop holding you. As snowflakes fell more heavily, they caught in your eyelashes, giving you an ethereal air.

_You are the loveliest being in all creation._

He raised a clawed hand to your face, taking note of how you glanced at his curved nails with only fond curiosity. Gently, so as not to break you, he slowly swiped his thumb across your lips.

You breath caught in your throat as you felt the warmth of his rough finger pad trail down your plump lower lip and to the cleft of your chin.

Softly, so softly, he tilted your head down and leaned closer. The tips of cold noses touched as he carefully swayed his head from side to side. A shockingly chaste gesture of affection. Leona’s eyes slid closed as he tilted your head further down.

Almost imperceptibly, he brushed his lips across your cool forehead. His heart stuttered in his chest.

You giggled softly.

He smiled and looked down at you.

You gazed back up at him.

He purred.


	4. Mismatched (Vil Schoenheit)

“Well, that’s just disgraceful.”

“What?” Rook glanced over at Vil who pointedly hunched over as he stared sharply off into the distance, his lilac eyes narrowed in a spiteful glare. Of course, it was the most graceful appropriation of being hunched over that the hunter had ever seen in his life, but it was _still_ a markedly uncouth stance for his dorm head.

“Nothing,” Vil murmured with a disdainful snort that had more composure and refinement than any snort had a right to, but, again, Rook knew a snort when he heard one.

A smile quirked at the edge of his lips. Leaning over in Vil’s direction, and making the other man frown, he saw exactly what he expected to see.

You were sat in class with those two Heartslabyul boys, laughing raucously at their antics. The one to your left looked about ready to pull out his azure hair and the ginger one seemed to be on the verge of puking with laughter. He noticed the rumpled uniforms of the boys and the unfortunate state of your blazer. It also seemed as if no one had taught any one of you the proper way to wear a tie

He chuckled softly, aware of Vil glancing over at him once more in irritation.

No one knew Vil. No one, really.

Those in his house saw their strict and detail oriented leader. A cool queen with high expectations and even higher standards.

The rest of Night Raven looked at him and saw a vain, narcissistic, icy diva.

His millions of fans saw only what they wished to see- another beautiful person making a living out of the his luck of winning the genetic lottery.

Rook looked at him and saw, admittedly, more than he wanted the other man to see.

Vil shone. His beauty was radiant and awing. He was multifaceted.

Like a diamond.

Like ice.

To be the most beautiful was to be singular, to stand apart from the rest.

To be the most beautiful was to be alone.

And he made it his life’s mission to be the most beautiful of all.

Vil was alone. And he wanted to keep it that way.

The hideously melodic ripple of your laughter seeped in from the hallway and Vil grit his teeth. You set him on edge. He wasn’t even sure why. There was no reason for you to set him so sharply off centre, but you did.

Occasionally, he would cut in while you were conversing with Epel. He’d correct your posture- you never stood straight enough, and then ask you to tidy your uniform. You didn’t seem to care much about keeping yourself put together as the day wore on. No matter how he prodded at you, none of the usual irritation his administrations would stir up seemed to flare.

Instead, you’d nod and agree with him. Sometimes with an indulgent smile or a sardonic quirk of your lips. But always, always, you’d look at him with that awful, penetrating gaze. He felt like a bug under a microscope when you looked at him like that. As if you could see beyond the veil of vanity the other houses draped upon him and that he, in turn, wore as a cloak. You looked at him as if you had umasked the reason for his strict devotion to perfection.

It was like you were trying to see him. To really see _him_ without disguise or filter.

You terrified him.

Of course, in such situations, the tall blond would usually excuse himself, stating a need to touch up his makeup or make sure his uniform was properly arranged. Once away from you, Vil would reassure himself that you had only looked at him so because of a speck of mascara on his cheek (he’d have to find a new favourite) or because his tie had been slightly crooked. Or because he was, easily, the most beautiful person you had ever lain eyes on.

He didn’t care if it was denial. It was the closest he had to an answer as to why you set him so at unease.

When the final bell of the day tolled, he exited his classroom at the same time as you. It was as if he could physically feel the moment your eyes registered him- a curious weight settling over his form- his heart stuttering for a second before returning to an agitated mockery of normalcy.

It was inevitable that you would notice him, Vil tried to reason with himself. He was beautiful and wickedly intelligent- eyes were always on him. He’d always been watched.

Your eyes met for a brief moment as you walked past one another. You smiled at him shyly, a gentle warmth in your expression. He cooly slid his gaze away.

Gross.

“I have to touch up my highlight,” he informed Rook as he turned around. “I’ll be stopping by Sam’s shop on my way back to the dorm, do as you please in the meanwhile.”

“Of course, Roi de Poison.”

You looked over in surprise as you felt someone walk close enough to graze against you. The tall, lithe blond turned ever so slightly to look down upon you from the corner of his eyes before striding off. Being the simple woman you were, you couldn’t help but glance down.

His pants fit him well.

“I’m sure he already knows,” you murmured.

“Hah?” Ace leaned down over you, his auburn brow quirked. “What was that? I couldn’t hear you from down there.”

“I said ‘Ace is a nosy twerp,‘” you replied and playfully shoved him.

“That’s an understatement, don’t you think?” Deuce asked.

“No one asked for your opinion,” Ace responded and bumped into you hard enough with his shoulder that you knocked into Deuce.

“It wasn’t an opinion,” the other man grated out before mimicking the red head’s actions. You groaned as they sandwiched you between the two of them, trying to shove each other into a wall via your body.

“Stop it,” you wheezed, once again stuck in the middle of one of their weird pissing contests. “You’re squishing me!”

“It’s _that_ guy’s fault,” one of them ground out.

“If you stopped pushing I wouldn’t be squishing them!” the other hissed.

“And let you shove me? Hell no!”

“You guys suck!” you squeaked, your face smushed against Deuce’s shoulder.

“Tell _him_ that!”

“She said both of us you dumbass!”

“What are you three doing?” a bright, smooth voice demanded from in front of you three, scolding all of you sharply.

Immediately standing at attention, none of you could quite meet those lilac eyes. Ace slowly extended his leg past yours to grind his heel into Deuce’s toes. You kicked his leg and he opened his mouth, no doubt to sass, only to be interrupted by Vil.

“Do any of you know how to properly wear a tie?” he asked,his face twisted in a handsome scowl.

“Yes,” the three of you murmured.

“Then why don’t you?”

“Artistic liberty.”

“Quiet.”

Ace tried in vain to muffle a snicker.

“You two go straighten yourselves out,” he commanded Deuce and Ace, point down the hallway at the the nearest restroom.

“And you,” he huffed and reached out. “You look like a rumpled, baked potato with that scarf hanging off your shoulders like that.” You froze as his gloved hands brushed your cheek. Carefully, the tall blond wrapped your scarf neatly upon his arm. His fingers grazed against your neck, cool from the winter air before settling on your shirt collar. Vil tsked as he deftly straightened out your uniform. A lump formed in your chest when he slowly unknotted your tie only to redo it.

Was he purposefully moving so slowly?

Or was time slowing down just to taunt you?

Your eyes met as you felt those slender fingers push the knot just enough for you to feel it lightly, oh so lightly, squeeze your neck. There was no hiding the subtle blush rising in your cheeks. You knew he’d seen it- of course he had. He was looming over you, a graceful and determined force of beauty. Those lavender eyes glinted with something dark for a moment as the knot tightened around your neck gently. Like a subtle warning.

Or a particularly frisky lover’s hand.

“You have lovely eyes,” you blurted out, desperate to derail from your previous train of thoughts. Reaching up, you placed your ungloved hands against Vil’s. He looked away before moving to straighten out the front of your blazer.

“I am aware,” Vil replied loftily, although you got the feeling he was just the slightest bit flustered. Not by your words, but by your actions.

You couldn’t help but wonder if he disliked being touched, despite how readily he’d reach out to correct others. Maybe he didn’t like the chances of someone accidentally mussing up his neatly arranged outfit.

Maybe he preferred being in control of who got to touch him.

You returned your hands to your sides.

“Jack says you’ve been getting up earlier than him lately for your your morning jogs.”

“I wish to be in better shape.”

You frowned at that. From what you’d heard, and could plainly see, Vil was in perfect shape already. He was so desperately dedicated to perfection and constantly giving his all that you couldn’t help the spark of worry you felt. Between house leader duties, being at the top of -and even exceptional in- his classes, work, and all of that maintenance he put into his appearance, when did Vil have time to himself? You couldn’t imagine putting yourself though that kind of constant pressure to be perfect. But no one could be impeccable like that. Eventually they had to crack, right? Vil was, as far as anyone knew, an exceptional human. He wasn’t made of diamond.

“You look perfect.”

He froze for a second before continuing. “I could always be more so.”

Your heart ached for him. You wanted to tell him to take time for himself. The world wouldn’t hold it against him if he wanted just a moment. You’d look away as he took it. You could offer him your shoulder.

But you didn’t dare offer. What if you were wrong? You’d look a fool and Vil would, no doubt, be offended at your insinuation that there was something other to him than beauty. That there was something more.

“There,” Vil said with a pleased hum and smoothed his hand over the top of your blazer, his cold gloved right hand hesitating over your chest a scant second longer than his left. “Better. You have a fine figure, you should wear your clothing to accentuate it.”

“Thank you.”

“There’s no need,” he shook his head, “I am to be surrounded by only beautiful things, your rumpled uniform prevents that.”

“So you think they’re beautiful?” Ace asked and was promptly whacked in the stomach by Deuce.

“There is beauty in all things, even rowdy idiots who should have done what I asked them to do minutes ago,” he said with a pointed glare. As the boys rushed off, you could hear Vil continue, softly, under his breath, “And especially in certain, rumpled, potatoes.”

Vil moved to wind the scarf back around you when you reached out for it. He let you take the scarf back.

“Well,” you started, your voice quavering as you stretched up on your tip toes and slid the scarf behind his neck. “I think you’d look lovely as a rumpled potato yourself.”

Pulling on the strip of knitted fabric, you brought him closer to your level and gently tucked it against his chest. Vil was stunned at your brazenness.

“There,” you said, a playfully gentle light shining in your eyes, “Better.”

He swallowed heavily, the bob of his Adam’s apple hidden.

“I know it may clash with your uniform or, goodness forbid, your aesthetic, but we can’t have a house leader getting sick now, can we?”

Ace and Deuce scuttled out of the bathroom, looking more tidy than you’d ever seen them. “It’s a horrible burden, always being the most beautiful, isn’t it? No one blames flowers for resting from blooming.”

“What?” Vil asked, but you had already skipped off to join the two Heartslabyul boys. He scowled. You didn’t know what you were talking about.

It wasn’t a burden at all.

To not give his all would be disgraceful.

He had to keep trying to better himself. To be more beautiful. To be more knowledgeable. Even if it meant running alone in the cold half an hour earlier. Even if it meant hours in an icy building prepping materials to snatch that perfect score. Even it it meant he sometimes felt more cold and numb with desperation to be _more_. He had to be the best of who he could be.

To make up for the fact that it was him.

Vil exhaled roughly into the scarf. The soft, woollen material hugged him comfortingly. He knew he should remove the thing. It didn’t have his preferred scent or feel. It smelled like you. It didn’t mesh with him. It was too short. It rumpled too easily. It wrapped him too tightly, like it thought he needed to be held. It saw too much. He didn’t like the idea of being seen. It said dumb things that knew too much and he didn’t like it when people thought they knew too much about him. It was-

Warm.

Lilac eyes closed for a soft second as he let the sensation nestle inside his chest. He deserved a moment, didn’t he? Just a moment.

He sighed, sinking into the embrace.


	5. Wamth (Malleus Draconia)

Malleus didn’t know when, although he had some semblance of a grasp as to how, he had settled into this routine. The only thing he knew without doubt was that this was easily the highlight of his week. _You_ were the highlight of his week. He’d spend most hours of the day waiting for nightfall and most days of the week waiting for the weekend. Never before had time moved so slowly for the fae.

Lilia took great joy in teasing him and Sebek seemed anxious for his sake, worried that he may not be well. Or enchanted. Or bewitched. He laughed at the very thought.

They weren’t wrong though. He did feel very much under your spell. His heart told him it was less due to magic and more due to the way you laughed and the look in your eyes when you smiled at him. 

The teasing and fretting was of no bother to Malleus though, as once the late hours of evening finally tolled, excitement would fill every breath he took as he made his way towards the beaten old dormitory that stood alone. He’d scarced rapped on the front door of Ramshackle when you swung it open.

“Have you been waiting long?” you asked, flushed from your run to the front door. Your cheeks were flushed with exertion and your eyes bright. The heavy coat and thick scarf around your neck protected you from the chill night air he was inadvertently letting in.

His heart, usually so calm and steady that it could be relied on to count the seconds, sped up as he looked upon your bright form. Grimm grumbled in the background. The scent of rotting wood drifted out from the house. A broken lampshade flickered. And still, there you were, just as haphazardly put together but brilliant. You moved him, as nothing else before had, with your curiosity and determination. You were a breath of fresh air he didn’t know he had been desperate to inhale.

“Ages,” Malleus replied solemnly.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry to have kept you,” you apologized frantically. You knew Malleus wasn’t strictly human, and that he didn’t seem to mind the cold much, at least in comparison to Leona and Ruggie, but it hadn’t been your goal to make him wait on you. The fae wasn’t quite as prone to whining or blaming you for his discomfort, unlike a certain pair of beast men. 

Your anxiety was blown away when the corner of his lips quirked in a small, heartbreaking smile.

“It was worth the wait.”

You grinned back at him, a little lost but still alive with joy. It seemed almost silly how much you enjoyed strolling the grounds of Night Raven with the mysterious Diasomnia house leader. Although he occasionally intimidated you, mostly by existing as a horned man standing at over six feet in height, his presence was always calming and pleasant. He would chatter excitedly about his interests or tell you long, beautiful stories that he had been taught or had read in tomes. They were always exciting tales that you had never heard of. 

Though close to his dorm members, and Diasomnia did seem more like a makeshift family than the other dorms, you got the feeling he was a very lonely man at times.

With a quick shout to Grimm that you’d be back shortly, you closed the door behind you and strolled off into the night with the man at your side.

“It’s supposed to snow tonight,” you mumbled, pointing up at the dark, starless sky with a little pout.

He looked down as you bobbed around, walking a crooked, wandering path through the thin layer of snow that had already fallen. Malleus bit back a chuckle as he walked what would usually suffice as a polite distance beside you. Instead, with your wobbling stride, you would occasionally walk close enough to brush up against him.

You always bounced off with a little blush. Walking side by side with someone wasn’t exactly a skill you excelled at. Always a little overeager and overzealous with those you felt close to, you had the unfortunate habit of being pulled into them when walking together. Malleus was no different. In fact, if anything, he drew you in more than anyone else ever had. So much so that you had to occasionally make a conscious effort not to waddle into him. It would be easier if you could convince yourself that he was also a wobbly walker, but you had the feeling that Malleus of all people no doubt had a straight and even stride.

“Sorry,” you apologized as you once again bumped into his side amongst your eager chattering.

“It’s alright,” he reassured, covering his mouth to hide a mirthful grin at your expense. He honestly did not mind and rather enjoyed the look of frustration and embarrassment you threw him every time you accidentality bumbled into him. You reminded him of a particularly clumsy bee.

Which was only fair, as you had caused his life to fruit with abundantly sweet days.

Your walk was relatively quiet as snow began to drift down. The campus went soft and quiet and Malleus couldn’t help but feel like the two of you were in your own little world. If only he could keep you here with him in this bubble forever.

There was something about just having you here, by his side, that filled him with an indescribable warmth. It was as if he was filled with light. Your soft humming beside him spokethat you were pleased simply being present with him. The golden campus lights reflected gently off of the snow. A soft blue atmosphere surrounded you both. He enjoyed the utter calm, and from your happy sigh, he could tell you were enjoying it as well.

Until you bumped into him again.

“Sorry-” you started, moving to step away, only to have him wrap an arm around your waist. You felt like the side where his hand lay were on fire, knowing full well that it couldn’t possibly be. The heavy fabric of your jacket and his glove, not to mention your sweater and underclothes, separated him far from your skin. But still, you tingled as if electricity or a flame licked at your side. 

“There,” he said simply, steadying you. “If we walk like this, you won’t have any reason to apologize.”

“Oh,” you said, “I’d hate to be a bother. I can just walk further from you if that helps.”

“Do you dislike me?” he asked, and his voice was so earnest you immediately reassured him.

“No!” you injected adamantly. “If anything- I think you’re wonderful and I love spending time with you! I really, really, really like…y…you.” You flushed and buried your face in your hands.

Malleus felt warmth bloom in his chest. He wasn’t used to anyone outside of his dear circle admit to such sweet feelings towards him. Usually he inspired fear and awe. He would happily take your affections. “I like you very much as well, child of man.”

“That’s not it-!”

“So you don’t like me?”

“No, I mean-” you spluttered and ultimately sighed in defeat, unwilling to even think about how you actually felt about Malleus. You weren’t ready to deal with the twisted ball of emotions concerning the fae. “Yes. I like you very much Malleus.”

He smiled and you felt your heart stutter.

“I’ve very much enjoyed tonight’s walk,” he announced and gave your side a tight squeeze. “But I do believe the weather’s taken quite a turn, we should get you home.”

You nodded, rather disappointed at how soon your time with him had come to an end. Arriving back at Ramshackle much sooner than you wished to, you moved to extract yourself from Malleus’s hold and immediately had to fight back the sense a sense of loss. Some stupid part of you felt as if you were made to fit beside him.

You were a stronger soul than the man beside you.

As you stepped forward without him, Malleus moved before his brain could process his actions. He’d reached for your ungloved hand and had taken it into his. The sense of desperation that filled him with your absence from his side had caused him pain. Had caused him longing beyond comprehension.

When you turned back to look at him, he had no words to explain. You left the fae speechless.

“Are you okay?” you asked, and to your surprise, you saw Malleus begin to blush softly. Like a painful truth settling. His cheeks began to glow a soft pink that spread gently to the tips of his pointed ears.

“I am well,” he replied, his voice husky with emotion. Still, he held on to your hand. You gave a dainty tug.

His grip tightened for a second before relaxing.

“You’re blushing.”

“So I am,” he murmured and gently raised your hand, pressing your warm palm to his cool cheek. His emerald eyes, the color of enchanted fire, slid closed as he nuzzled against you.

“You’re cold.” You frowned and tentatively put your other palm on his opposite cheek. It was just as chilly as the other.

He sighed, letting out a soft moan, and you felt your body pulse with desire.

“You’re warm,” Malleus murmured. “So warm.”

Impulsively, you stroked your thumb over his cheek and he let out a throaty hum. You paused, unsure as to what that could have meant. At your continued stillness, a pair of brilliant jade eyes slitted open.

His pupils, usually a thin sliver, were blown wide, and his irises- well, you’d never seen eyes so green. They blazed with fire, quite literally glowing in the night.

The shimmering lights that seemed to follow Malleus around began to multiply and shine more vibrantly around the two of you.

Slowly, teasingly so, he tilted his head, never once breaking eye contact with you. Cupped in your palms, his face turned so that you could feel his lips against your skin. They were cool and so soft as they pressed an inadvertent kiss against your hand. Those flushed petals parted, and you could see the glint of his fang as he pressed it against your palm.

Bewitched by this picture of divine beauty and rapture, you couldn’t move, even as that fang nipped you. Pierced you. Pricking your soft flesh until a single bead of your ruby blood shone in the dancing green lights.

You caught a glimpse of a forked tongue as it slithered out and over that droplet. Blood rushed to your face and other regions as you continued to stare into those fiery emerald depths, catching the moment Malleus tasted you as his eyes lit up like crystalline lightning.

Greedily, he passed over your pierced flesh once more, taking you in. He wanted to devour you. Wanted to consume every last drop of you until he didn’t know where you began and he ended. Wanted to bind you to his flesh and your lips to his. With great difficulty, Malleus closed his eyes, his brows furrowing in concentration. He’d never felt like such a monstrous creature before. He wanted to hide you away. To save your priceless laughter and ravishing affection for him and him alone.

You left him weak and raw.

You left him a beast.

His hands slithered around yours, holding them as you cupped his face, and squeezed tightly. You were so warm. He wanted to bask in you. Willing up every ounce of strength he had, the fae pressed his lips to your shallow wound in a ghost of a kiss before pulling away.

Your blood painted his lips scarlet.

He was so beautiful it would have broken the heart he had already stolen from you.

“Forgive me,” he pleaded, his voice as soft as velvet. “For all of my transgressions tonight.”

_I could not help myself. You are so lovely._

Malleus’s unspoken words hung in the air, heavy on his tongue and his heart.

“Of course,” you whispered. He was forgiven before he’d asked. You would forgive him anything, and that knowledge terrified you.

A heavy sigh left his lips and he nuzzled against you palm once more, his brows furrowing with all of the emotions he could not and would not dare to name.. “I-” he started, only to cut himself off with a frustrated growl. “I-”

“I know.”

He opened his eyes slowly and once more looked into yours. Searching for those same emotions he could and would not dare to name and finding them bare for the world to see. Malleus laughed, a hoarse, broken sound jutting out of chest where his heart beat for you.

“You’re warm.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I have a little longer?” he asked, his hand squeezing yours.

“As long as you want.”

Malleus sighed deeply. It was a confused and pained sound. His heart ached for you. For him. For the impossibility of what he dared not understand.

_And if I want forever?_


	6. Side by Side (Silver)

Lavender eyes slitted open the barest fraction. A cool draft rushed over the young man, only further aggravating the interruption of his precious nap. After a brief argument with Sebek, he had sought shelter and rest, expecting the library to be quiet and devoid of distractions. He'd evidently been wrong. His disruptor wandered by a bookshelf roughly four meters from him.

Silver had come to the here knowing he could, much, much more often than not, count on it being quiet. With snow piling up along the deep windowpanes, and the heating vents humming away, it was nearly impossible to resist falling asleep in one of the handful of large chaise lounges hidden among the shelves of books. It was irresistibly cozy. He was a strong man and highly capable knight, but he _was_ only human.

And naps were a temptation Silver was never one to resist.

Until you had come in.

He registered the soft clack of the library doors opening and the tapping of your feet against cold stone. Silver couldn’t say how he knew exactly what your walking sounded like. He just… knew you. He knew the lilt of your smile and jingle of your laughter. Knew the scuff of your shoes across grass and the rhythmic heartbeat of you trying to make it to class in time. And still, he wanted to know more. He wanted to know what a smile, just for him, would look like. What it would sound like. What it would feel like pressed against his lips.

He wanted to find out if you longed to know as well.

“Silver?” he heard you ask, your voice a soft whisper that caressed him from the inside and awoke him in ways he’d never before stirred.

The knight rolled over in response, pressing his face into the soft back of the chaise. You huffed softly at his rude attempt to ignore you. Childishly sticking your tongue out at him, you walked past to a set of bookshelves. As you scanned the shelves for the tome assigned to you by Professor Trein, you failed to notice a pair of lilac eyes opening to gaze upon you with gentle curiosity from beneath snowy lashes.

A smile twitched at the corner of Silver’s lips as he watched you stretch up on your tip toes to snag the very corner of a heavy looking tome. He considered getting up to assist, only to watch you drag it nearer and nearer to the edge of the shelf. It was clear that you were hinging on the book falling off the shelf from it’s own weight and right into your waiting arms. Resourceful, he thought, and closed his eyes again. In short time, he heard you whisper a victorious, “Gotcha!”

Only to quickly be followed by a resonant thunk and a painted, “Ouch!”

He tried not to laugh, but there was no denying that you had heard a muffled, amused snort coming from behind you on the chaise.

Cheek puffed out in embarrassed indignation, you prepared to stride off only to hear two soft pats. You stopped in your tracks and looked over at the reclined form. Still feigning slumber, you watched as Silver extended an arm behind where he lay and pat the empty space beside him. You flushed at his silent entreaty.

Telling yourself you were only doing this because there were no empty tables and all of the other lounges were being used by strangers, a very obvious lie, you tentatively sat beside the dozing knight. His heat radiated over the scant centimetres separating the two of you. You breathed in and his scent filtered along the edge of your awareness. It was sharp and clean, with an almost floral hint to it. A soft blush stained your cheeks as you tried to discretely breath in a little more deeply. If he noticed, he didn’t say. You surmised that he was definitely already fast asleep when a tiny wheeze of a snore filled the air. A smile ticked at the corner of your lips as you settled down, a little emboldened by his lack on conscious. The heavy tome smelled vaguely musky as you cracked it open, having already memorized which chapters you’d need for your lesson the next day.

The beautiful thing about attending a magic school as a student from a world without the same concept of magic was that, often times, the material was astoundingly interesting. You were quickly drawn into the subject matter, eyes wide with curiosity and mouth moving silently as you read with an eager hunger. Lost in your fervour, the shyness began to melt off of you like snow, even as the storm outside began to rage. You leaned back in the seat, not even noticing the man beside you as he shifted.

Silver inhaled deeply, a well of content in his chest. The sounds of the howling blizzard just outside as well as the hum of the heating vents filled his ears. Your sweet scent filled his lungs and he could feel your heat seeping into his side. He looked over at you from beneath his lashes, taking note of how your brow scrunched the slightest bit as you read, your lips moving with every word.

He’d never been one for fleeting emotions, but great seven-

Silver could not help but _adore_ you.

Despite his stoic and, admittedly, stern nature, you never seemed to tire of him. In fact, you seemed to enjoy spending time together. Of course, most of that time was him being sound asleep in your periphery, but he wouldn’t discount those moments. The gentle touch of you removing a fallen leaf from his locks or quietly entreating your gathered companions to lower their voices for his sake. He treasured each and every interaction, no matter how fleeting. Even if they meant nothing to you. Even if only in his dreams would they become more than kind gestures from a sweet natured acquaintance.

You often visited his dreams. He’d take your hand and lead you into a floral meadow. The dappled sunlight that penetrated the canopy would flutter in your hair like golden butterflies. With your joyful laughter ringing in his ears and his hand on the small of your back, the two of you would dance. It would start off a polite, formal sway, slowing as you grew closer and closer until you were pressed against him. Your lovely eyes would gaze up into his and he would smile. A flush would burn the back of his neck but he would stay where he was. There was no place he would rather be than there with you in his arms, your hearts beating in the empty hollows of each other’s chests.

Silver would lean down. He wouldn’t steal anything you did not wish to give. Would not ask for more than what you would readily share. No, he only wanted to press his forehead to yours. Noses brushing, lips a breath away from meeting, he wanted to feel your heart flutter in your chest. Wanted to take your hand and press it to his heart so that you would see that you were not alone. And when you felt him, truly felt him, he wanted to feel your lips part as you whispered his name.

“Silver!”

The knight’s lavender eyes snapped open as he shifted uncomfortably. You were beside him, looking down in concern at his uncharacteristically jerky movements. The back of his neck burned as embarrassment twinged in his gut. He coughed and straightened himself beside you marginally.

“Did I fall asleep again?”

“Yes,” you said quietly, amusement replacing your concern as you closed the heavy book you had been reading. “You were frowning and breathing oddly.”

The blush began to travel to the tips of his ears.

“I apologize for alarming you.”

“It’s no problem,” you replied with a wry smirk.

_How irritating._

It wasn’t fair that you could look upon him with such ignorant mirth, unaware of how you haunted both his dreams and waking hours. He wanted to wipe that grin off your face.

Silver grasped your arm firmly enough to move you and gently enough to keep from alarming. You froze before moving as he wished. Nervous and confused, your thoughts were a scrambled mess as his other hand cupped your face. You’d known Silver was strong and physically fit. It was hard not to notice his muscular forearms when he crossed them. It was especially hard not to look when he rolled up his sleeves.

You found yourself fantasizing about them. Often.

And now, with him holding your shoulder and cupping your face, it was nearly impossible for you to think straight.

“S-silver?” you whispered breathlessly. Half on top of him, your heart thundered wildly as he gazed up at you from beneath his pale lashes. His eyes were like opals. You’d never been so near someone so perfectly crafted.

He smiled and your heart melted.

It was a slow curl of the knight’s lips. Like snow melting under a gentle spring sun.

You knew you’d be fantasizing about the turn of that smile as well from now on.

The hand holding your cheek moved and you felt the scrape of Silver’s gloved thumb swipe over your lips. Once. Twice. And then a third time.

The pad rested heavily against the middle of your bottom lip, parting them sweetly. Unthinkingly, you moved to bite your lip out of nervousness and accidentally nibbled him.

You short circuited in embarrassment.

Silver’s head went momentarily empty, all semblance of sleep disappearing as he both saw and felt your tongue and teeth caress him. His pupils were wide and dark against his pastel irises, his breaths becoming short and unsteady as he once more swiped his finger against your lips, wishing it could be his tongue or his lips instead.

What would it feel like if you nibbled on his skin instead of on the thick fabric of his gloves? Silver swiped his thumb across your softly parted lips again. Pleading with you to do more. He would take only what you wished to give him.

This time, you leaned in, no longer being coaxed by the strong Knight who held you. Like a dream come true, you closed in until your noses brushed against one another’s and your foreheads met in a a gentle press.

“Kiss me,” Silver begged you so quietly and so softly that you could not deny the possibility that those words had simply been your imagination running wild. Your fingers moved to cup his cheek. Those snowy lashes closed and you could feel them flutter against your skin.

“ **Ah-hem**.”

You froze in place and felt Silver go limp. A fake snore rising into the air.

_Bastard!_

You thoughts were a mixture of irritation and trepidation as Sebek towered over the two of you, his angry aura positively crackling.

“Do you intend to take responsibility for such rakish actions towards our Silver?”

A single lavender eye screwed open to look up at you as you flushed.

“Well- uh- I- uh- what do you mean-?”

“You must take responsibility!”

“Y-yes!” You jumped up out of the seat and acquiesced to the loud man, not quite sure what you were agreeing to but, unfortunately, too flustered to argue or think clearly. “I will!”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all enjoy! I update my Tumblr much more frequently than I do my AO3, so if you want more of my stuff, you'll have to find me there :D


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